


Tit for tat

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: How about an unwritten/unsent letter to Emma, 'I am in love with you, but I respect you too much to tell you.' Angst and whatever else you wishAsked by anon via tumblr





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in: S7

The words were blurred, the crispiness of the ink gone thanks to time and the wrinkles that covered the paper, speaking of the hundredths of times the paper had been folded before. Emma almost dropped it, almost tore it, yet she kept on looking at it; at the loops and the spacing, so familiar to her after years of reading and receiving correction after correction on every report she had ever written and presented to the mayor’s office.

The paper wasn’t signed but it didn’t matter, not with Emma standing in the middle of 108 Mifflin Street mansion, surrounded by boxes and books that she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing with.

It had been difficult, feeling the portal close at her back, the final nod burned to her retina as she walked away from Killian’s hold. She didn’t talk; giving him a sharp shake of her head and poofing herself into her parents’ house. She had told them that Henry was safe with short sentences, curt and sharp, and when asked about Regina she had merely been able to shrug away her mother’s concerned gaze. She had felt guilty, ashamed, and while she had learnt to live with the feeling of having made a mistake that afternoon she was almost drowned in it.

She was good at pretending though, and she guessed that time would help her, would make her sleep better, smile happily when she was stopped in the street, asked by a still unborn child and a marriage she was supposed to be ecstatic to be with. Yet, Regina’s absence hung over her head, the reason of why she had left one that some asked her about. Not the older residents of Storybrooke, the ones who had seen them ever since the beginning, who knew that it didn’t matter how many times Regina went to the station or Emma herself did the same to the office: their relationship, their friendship, had changed ever since Henry had left. No, the ones who asked where the ones that Emma still dubbed as new even after everything had been said and done, the ones who hadn’t been there during the first curse, the ones who had known of the Queen and the Dark One and the Savior and prophecies and Authors but who hadn’t lived through it. Those were the ones who asked, the ones who smiled at her.

The others merely stared at her, something close to worry on their eyes, unasked questions burning hotly on Emma’s ears as she turned and remained tightlipped, silent, with one hand over her still mostly flat belly.

An old tell she knew that wasn’t hers, that she knew she had picked up from the brunette herself.

Maybe that had been the reason why, after a month of restless nights and moments in where her muscle memory always managed to fool her senses, she got up and left to the mansion. Now cold and closed to everyone who had tried to enter. And there had been several Lost Boys who had tried such a thing; the magic guards Regina had around the property propelling them out.

Emma had felt the buzz in her chest when she had walked in front of it a week after the goodbye, but her magic had been sucked inward rather than outwards. As if the mansion itself was asking her to enter. She had said as much to herself when she had finally gone to the main door, not knowing entirely what to do as she put a hand over the pristine white wood. She shouldn’t have worried as the door yielded under her fingers, faint mauve sparkles coloring the air around her before they dissolved.

She didn’t know what she was searching, why she was there, if there was even something to be found, but she still roamed through the rooms slowly. As if she was actually waiting for Regina to come out of the kitchen, or the living room, or her study. Floorboards silent, she walked towards that later room, memories flashing into her mind’s eye.

There had been when she had found the letter; wrinkled, almost falling off the edge of the study. As if Regina had been simply reading it before she had been called away, the act of leaving it behind stinging as Emma’s eyes fell into it, curious but a part of her, the one who had been able to sense Regina no matter where she was, tingling, nervous.

 _“A thing that took me years to understand was what deserving something truly meant.”_  The last paragraph of the letter was even blurrier than the rest, the handwriting not as polished as the other lines.  _“You are capable of many great things, you deserve many others. No matter how much I would want one of those be a conversation that it’s long overdue neither of us truly made that final step. I am in love with you, but I will never voice it out loud. Not now. But I still do. I still will.”_

Sight unfocusing, breathing becoming difficult, Emma needed to drop the letter at the end, not trusting herself as she watched it fall. Regina had been right of course, she always had.

Neither of them had voiced out what they both had known; too many complications, too many close calls. It had been easier to pretend deafness when everything around them screamed otherwise. Emma had been afraid, far too afraid. As for Regina…

Emma could remember the heat of Hell’s trip, the pungent scent of guilt as it surrounded her while she eyed Regina, the words “too good” echoing mockingly back at her now. Not that it mattered, she found herself thinking, despondently. Decisions had been made. Stories had been written.

And she had failed.

She left the mansion after that, with the letter tucked inside her jacket’s pocket, a burning reminder of something that had almost happened, and she forced herself to keep with her life, pretending she didn’t miss Regina, that her mind didn’t play tricks with her, that she sometimes didn’t almost catch a whiff of a perfume she knew no one else wore.

So when she felt magic rumbling beneath her feet and she woke to a crying Hope and a newly merged set of realms… she could only bite down on her tongue and wait.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely heartless... q-uan is the responsible for this one

This time Emma didn’t try to open the door, she feared that the wood would reject her and so she stood, fingers against her lips as she eyed the façade of the mansion that, after so long, was illuminated with the lights of the porch she was standing in.

It hadn’t been so long, she reasoned, not that much for her to feel at loss but, for what she had heard, for the rumors and whispers and stories she had already been told about, it had truly been long enough, longer than anyone would have suspected, for the woman that was somewhere inside the house.

She hadn’t gone searching for her once the magic wave receded, she hadn’t been able to and she had been quick enough, smart enough, coward enough, to tell to herself that it was because of Hope.

She wasn’t really that good of a liar however, and so when her mother had called her she had muttered a few pleasantries she knew she didn’t feel and had hung up, heart trapped on her throat and a wave of panic settling on her stomach, on her chest.

She rose her hand and put it against the number of the door, feeling the warmth they radiated, the pull of a magic she hadn’t felt, truly felt, ever since the portal had closed behind her; severing a connection she had taken for granted far too many times. The numbers sparkled but the door remained closed and she bit on her bottom lip. Still a coward, still unsure.

She could almost taste the many other reasons she could list as of why she could go back to her place, check on Hope, pretend to be too tired to talk to Hook, feign happiness, feign that she wasn’t hurt that Regina hadn’t reached for her after being back. Feigning she hadn’t seen Henry’s own doubts when the young man had approached her, his family in tow and far too many complicated explanations hanging above their heads to truly have a conversation, a real one, in where she could explain herself.

She had chosen not to stay with them after all. She had chosen Storybrooke over them. She had chosen something else.

The letter still burned just as much as Henry’s presence had had and so she curled her hand into a loose fist before knocking, twice, thrice.

The door opened just as she began to move her hand away, no one at the other side but the same mauve-colored sparks, darker in color, stronger now that the one who had set the guards had returned.

She wanted to run away, pretend she hadn’t even come closer to the house but her own magic was already escaping a grip she still hadn’t perfected, lacking as she had found herself on real magical lessons. Taking a shaky breath, she stepped inside, almost expecting for the magic to truly recognize her, make her stumble backwards.

It didn’t happen and so she kept walking, the door closing behind her, clicking back in place with a gust of magic that made her tremble. The sound of footsteps coming on her way, however, was what elicited her to stop, blood draining from her face.

Regina looked different and yet just the same as the last time she had seen her; same poise, same far too open gaze. Yet, there was something different about her, something she truly couldn’t distinguish what it was but made her tongue heavy with fear all the same.

Not that she had any claims on asking about that, did she? She had chosen, had she not?

“Emma.”

There was no surprise on her voice; she must have felt her trespass the guards after all, but there was some wonder there, hidden in the way she still elongated the “m” for half a second, something no one but her did, something she had learnt to cherish and then miss. Smiling lopsidedly, Emma nodded, not truly knowing what to do with her hands, with the letter she had hidden inside the breast pocket of the jacket she wore. Not made of leather, not brightly colored, but still something that made her feel lost and standing at a crossroad. One she didn’t know how she had reached in the first place.

She had chosen, had she not?

“I still do.”

The brunette didn’t say anything when she spoke, but Emma could see the way her face tensed and, despite her own nerves she almost smiled at that, at how, apparently, she was still able to read the older woman.

“You wrote that, didn’t you?”

She hadn’t planned on starting like this, she had maybe hoped that Regina would accuse her, ask her, about the missing letter. She knew the woman would have probably realized it was gone by then. She still had let her take it. But now that the words were out, and the unsaid question was hovering above them, she found herself unable to stay silent.

“Didn’t you?”

She was pushing her luck, she needed to stop, but she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. So she licked her lips and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, on the feel of her clothes on top of her skin, grounding her, as she felt her head sway.

“I love you. I still do. I still will.”

When she opened her eyes once more Regina had inched closer, but she had her arms crossed in front of her chest, protective, always careful and she wanted to choke out a mirthless laugh.

She had chosen. But she had chosen wrong.

“Yes.”

Regina’s voice was rougher now and when Emma focused on her eyes she could see rivulets of purple coloring them, making them glow. She was out of practice and so she almost flinched when she felt the familiar yet now strange feeling of the brunette’s power coming to hers. She, however, didn’t, not even when Regina kept eyeing her, as if dubious of what to do next.

And there were plenty of things they both could do. There were plenty of conversations they could have. Or they could pretend to have.

“I’ve missed you.” The words came out of her mouth blurted and almost chaotic on the way they hit her teeth, her tongue, on the way they were almost lost on how she fidgeted, afraid. But they still came out and so she shrugged, feeling every bit like she had felt the first time she had seen the woman in front of her; about to take a leap into something she didn’t fully understand. This time, though, she wasn’t bringing back a kid to his mother and, perhaps that, made her grasp for her own piece of paper, as wrinkled, as folded, as re-read, as the original had been.

She gave it to Regina, the brunette’s quickly untangling her arms and picking up the paper while still eyeing her, eyes far too deep for Emma to feel comfortable with. Nodding, she turned, stopping just as she grasped the handle of the door, the metal burning, scorching, covered in Regina’s residual charm.

“They are going to have something at the palace. You know that, don’t you?”

And she didn’t want to give everything away because she had almost sputtered when Snow had presented her the idea and she wasn’t that similar to her mother that she was unable to keep a secret but she still needed to hold her tongue as Regina nodded, still eyeing the piece of paper as if it was about to bite her, to turn into ash.

“Will you go?”

And Emma wanted to cry because was there even a question if she was going to go to a coronation she fully believed Regina deserved? She guessed yes; after everything after how she had turned and left but it still hurt.

“I will try to not be late.”

And so, opening the door, she crossed the threshold and left before Regina could fully unfold the letter, before Regina could read the simple lines, the ones that lacked everything Regina had poured into the paper, that lacked grace but were still -she hoped- just as true.

_“I also love you.”_


End file.
